Avid Lips

When dawn breaks
and its oranges and yellows and reds
break through the curtains and land on my bed,
I wrench open my old windows,
and climb onto the shingles.

I spin
with recklessness that gives me such a rush,
that burns through my veins
and I let an old melody that few could ever know
flow from my avid lips.

Sometimes when I'm dancing
above my throat's humming
and my lip's singing
and my footsteps dancing against the roof,
I pretend the neighbors come out on the sidewalks
and wonder what I'm doing.

I spin
and while the rising sun stands as a backdropp behind me,
and the roof as my stage,
and my dancing as my act;
I peak through the blur of it all
down at the grounds, sidewalks and streets...

by Alyssa Taylor

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